


Cherry Kisses

by itsnotminorine



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Post Season 3, canon sucks and I'm sad so I wrote this, he's fine dw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:41:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28774008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsnotminorine/pseuds/itsnotminorine
Summary: After a few months of bonding and developing hidden (assumed to be unrequited) feelings, your favorite fugitive scientist does something surprising.
Relationships: Alexei (Stranger Things)/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	Cherry Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> The lack of Alexei fic on here and tumblr is upsetting, and though it's been almost 2 years I'm still obsessed. I might eventually write more because I love him with my whole heart, but for now here's this.

Despite the occasional wince and hand pressed to his abdomen, Alexei’s healing process has come along quite nicely. Quicker than the doctors at the hospital had anticipated too. In less than a month your new friend had bounced back, pacing bored circles in his hospital room until you finally brought him back to the real world. You obliged when the doctors said it was alright, and you'd never seen a more thankful expression when you tried your best to explain his release from the hospital. 

In all your time alive you’d never seen anyone so eager and bright and curious as he, not even the most enthusiastic of children. Everything is shiny and new to the man, his deep brown eyes twinkling at any given moment. Anything there is to explore, he's there, his particular favorite spots consisting of the Arcade, the Family Video conveniently next door to it, and the radio store down on Main Street. He always receives odd stares from the kids and teens that hang out there, but never seems to let it phase him. In fact you always take more offense to it than him, carefully trailing behind him and sending them bitter glares right back. Sometimes his fingers would intertwine with yours as he'd drag you to the next thing that piqued his interest, his warm hand in yours never failing to send the butterflies in your stomach wild.

Granted he can’t go many places, not on his own at least.  _ Especially  _ not with Cold War tensions running high and a potential hit on his back after defecting. No, everywhere he goes you go, and vise versa. Not that either of you mind really, being attached at the hip. He's lived with you since being discharged from the hospital, after all. Due to the rather difficult language barrier and lack of a proper translator, communication is still a continuous struggle, but you’ve both come a long way since you first dragged him into the hospital that fateful Independence Day. Admittedly he’s advanced far further than you have in the language department, not that you haven’t been giving it your all of course, it just seems to come much more easily for him. 

You now sit together on a park bench beside the sidewalk, shaded by an oak tree overhead, people-watching the early-afternoon small-town rush. A half empty lemonade cup sits beside your thigh, drops of water beading on the sides and seeping into the wood of the bench as they accumulate and trickle down. Alexei’s arm is slung around your shoulders, fingers absently drawing circles on your shoulder. You wonder if he realizes how intimate such a gesture is. 

He stares off at the pedestrians, cheeks pinched in a small smile as he sips his cherry slurpee through a straw. His favorite beverage behind Coca-Cola you’d quickly discovered upon hovering at his bedside for weeks. Nothing can compare to the way the color dye stains his lips bright red, making his grin all the more perfect your eyes. His hair is a little longer than when you’d first met a few months ago, dark curls grown shaggy and even more voluminous. He’s insisted on keeping his face regularly shaven and sideburns well-groomed, though. Your fingers twitch, imagining how it would feel to run your fingers through his hair and ruffle his curls. Before you know it you’re lost in another fantasy, a daily occurrence by now, vividly picturing yourself clinging to him like a lover would rather than a friend, holding him, touching him-

You blink back into the real world when he tilts his head to look at you, stained lips pulling into a broad smile that illuminates the whole of his handsome face. His wire-frame glasses are slipped down the bridge of his narrow nose, and he swiftly pushes them back in place with his index finger to gaze at you properly. You love it when he does that. 

“You enjoying your slurpee?” you ask with a chuckle, gesturing towards the mostly empty 7-Eleven cup. He fervently nods, offering it out to you for a sip. You laugh and shake your head, gently pushing it back towards him. “You finish it, I have my lemonade.” 

He shrugs, contently mutters an “ _ Okay _ .” and returns to peacefully watching the people pass by. You return to watching him, genuinely pondering what could be going on in that brilliant mind of his as he stares off.

A young couple pass by. You'd heard them coming before you see them, giggling and muttering sweet nothings to each other. The girl walks with her arms hugged around her boyfriend’s waist, tucked snugly under his arm against his side. You can't help but feel jealous, the pair looking joyous as can be and plainly in love as they stroll down the sidewalk without a care in the world. Chancing a glance at Alexei, he seems enthralled- curiously observant of their affectionate behavior. You briefly wonder if such open affection is an uncommon sight in the Soviet Union before turning your passive attention back to the couple. They continue to laugh with each other, the jovial sound only being broken when they move to kiss, fondly pecking each other on the lips over and over as they stroll past, giggling whenever they break. 

You feel odd staring at them so you break your gaze, instead opting to tap your heels on the sidewalk concrete and stare at the cracks where plants haphazardly grow. It’s bad enough to see other couples happy, but feeling Alexei’s arm wrapped around your shoulders is a different kind a torture. You wouldn’t ever want to risk ruining your carefully crafted and nurtured friendship. You’d never take the initiative, never find out if your undying love for the goofy scientist is requited- 

A tap on your shoulder draws you from your brooding, perking your head up to glance at the man. His crimson-stained lips are pulled taut in that impish smile again as he tilts his head to get a better look at you. You feel blush prickling your skin the longer he silently watches you. You wait, anticipating a comment or question in that heavy and distinct accent of his, but it never comes. Instead he leans closer, free hand lifting to tilt your chin with fingers, chilled by the cool cup he's placed down somewhere. You’re speechless, and no more than a hair's breadth away from touching noses. This is the closest you’ve ever been to him, and from this perspective you can see every detail of his face up-close and personal for the first time- from the small scar hidden beneath the nose-piece of his glasses to the flecks of amber in his eyes.

Before you can fathom the events unfolding before you he leans forward, closing the distance and planting his soft lips on yours. You can feel him smiling against your mouth. Adrenaline buzzes through every nerve and bursts like fireworks in your head and the only thing you can think about is how strongly he tastes of sugar and cherries. The feeling is short-lived as he pulls away and releases your jaw from his gentle grip, still smiling like an idiot. 

When he hums gleefully and amusedly to himself and goes back to sipping his drink the anguished realization that he may have only been fooling around hits you like a ton of bricks. Fighting the urge to smack him upside the head you puff up in defense.

“What was that?” you bite out, adjusting yourself to sit facing him. He giggles and shrugs, then replies in Russian. You can’t understand a word of it and only become more flustered at his complacent behavior. 

“You think that was a joke?” you feel your face growing hot, both with anger and embarrassment. It didn’t feel like a playful kiss for _you,_ nor do you want it to be in jest. It makes your heart ache. He furrows his brows and turns to look at you, genuine confusion twisting his gentle features as he retracts his arm from around your shoulders. 

“Joke? No...” he mutters, cradling the cup in his hands. 

“Why would you kiss me then?” His confusion seems to only grow and his eyes dart to avoid your piercingly intense gaze. 

“They like each other,” he meekly gestures towards where the couple disappeared off to, “I like you. Is that... not what you do?” 

His mouth is pulled into the first real frown you’ve seen from him. Even through grueling physical therapy and the healing process of a bullet to the liver he’d never frowned. Your heart twists at his words. Had you been wrong? Is this yet another miscommunication? Blush almost as red as his beverage creeps onto his face, beginning at his ears and spreading to his cheeks and nose. 

“You... like me?” you whisper, hung up on that one sentence. You could care less about the rest. The crease in his brow softens as he nods. 

“дa, yes.” he mutters, sheepishly shrugging and shrinking away, "I thought... это было очевидно." 

You don't quite catch the last part, but his bashful confession is enough proof for any residual distress to melt from your system. He's taken aback when you burst into an enormous smile and throw your arms around his neck, laughing with your nose pressed into the curve of his jaw. The swell of happiness in your heart is almost unbearable- the happiest you think you've possibly ever been as you delightedly pepper kisses against his round cheek. He manages to wriggle out of your latching grip and place his slushee cup at a safe distance, looking down at you with brows furrowed and mouth slightly ajar. His eyes twinkle with curiosity and you finally feel confident enough to slip your hand up the back of his neck, twining your fingers around his curls. His glasses have slipped down his nose again and this time you do him the favor of pushing them back up comfortably. 

"You... like me?" he asks, a slight pout downturning his dyed lips. You lean up to touch your forehead to his, holding him close by the back of his head, your other hand finding his chest. 

"I have for a while." you sigh, forehead still pressed to his, "Now kiss me again." you add slyly, a devilish smile spreading on your face as you bite your lip. 

A wave of visible relief washes over him as the tenseness in his shoulders dissipates, and he giggles, gleefully obliging your request. His hands find your face and dark eyes flick to your lips, the object of his desire. You lean to meet him halfway, his cherry-flavored lips sealing against yours once more. This time it's more serious, as serious as the man could possibly be that is, putting thought into the way his warm mouth moves against yours. He's gentle and tender, but he doesn't do well to hide his enthusiasm as he fervently leans against you. His hands glide from your heated cheeks to the space below your ears, thumbs brushing against your cheekbones. Your own hands remain where they are, one tangled in his heavenly hair and the other sandwiched between your chests, gripping the fabric of his striped button-up. 

He briefly breaks for you both to take gasping breaths, the corners of his eyes crinkling with a smile before he ensnares your lips again. He tilts his head to get a better angle at you and a light moan is drawn from your throat and muffled against his mouth. He trembles with excitement under your hands at the noise. With every extra inch he eagerly leans into you the further you're dipped backward, clinging to him as you near a 45 degree angle to the bench. His left hand separates from your head to grip the back of the bench, bracing himself as to not tip you back too far. Your senses are invaded by his intoxicating scent, the cherry sugar of his lips mixed with the warm cologne that lingers on his form. Just as your lips part to allow him entrance the small of your back bumps and subsequently topples something. Your hazy brain racks to think what it could be, when you remember-

_ The lemonade!  _

You break with a surprised gasp and twist to find your cup overturned behind you, spilled all over the sidewalk and part of the bench. Alexei peers over your shoulder, resting his chin on the slope of your neck as he surveys the mess. His large hands find your waist and you turn back to him, pouting in disappointment at having wasted the rest of your refreshment. He merely grins and goes back to kissing you, gingerly pecking your smiling lips. 

After a moment you hear a huff somewhere to your left, and look up to see a frowning older woman, arms crossed as she eyes the spilled lemonade across the sidewalk. Her eyes trail to you in Alexei's arms, both red-faced and staring at her. She tuts in disapproval and steps over the dark patch.

"Delinquents." she mutters with a dramatic roll of her eyes as she passes the pair of you on the bench.

There's a pause as you and Alexei watch her walk away, amused and stunned speechless, before his face pinches in a grin and laugher roars from his chest. You follow suit, crumbling into giggles at the sheer ridiculousness of the event, hooking your arm around his waist to better hide your face in the crook of his neck and nestle against his chest. He presses his lips to wherever he can reach- your temple, the shell of your ear, the crown of your head, whispering in his native tongue between every sweet kiss. 

"I still have to sleep on the couch?" he asks in a low accented whisper, audibly grinning with his lips against your ear. Though you choke out a surprised laugh and swat his hard chest, you can't help but feel pleasurably enticed by the suggestion. 

Your grinning lips find his jaw and give him a quick kiss before slipping out of his hold, scooping up your empty cup in the process. You throw him a playful glance over your shoulder before skipping a few steps away.

"Come on, Lexi, we still have the rest of the afternoon!" you call behind you, laughing at the sound of him scrambling to collect his own cup and follow after you. You deposit your cup in the trash bin beside the sidewalk as you pass it, lingering to wait for him to catch up.

His hand finds yours as he returns to your side, fingers intertwining with yours, and you look up at him. His warm eyes watch you from behind crooked glasses, sipping through the straw once more. You've never been more overjoyed. Holding his hand feels different now as he cheerfully swings your arms. It's real now, and your love is requited. Warmth blooms in your chest, and you've never been more thankful to have gone to that carnival.

  
  



End file.
